


cherries jubiles

by wrenlans (honeyandjam)



Series: onf wyatt makes some ateez guy cum in a public bathroom [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band), ONF (Band)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No/Pre Coronavirus, Blow Jobs, Circle Jerk, Fluff and Humor, Kazakhstani Wyatt, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Meet-Cute, Russian Mingi, Semi-Public Sex, Song: Cherries Jubiles (Yukika), bonding over being second-gen kids in a migrant family!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyandjam/pseuds/wrenlans
Summary: It's eerily quiet for an airport bathroom, Mingi frowns. He doesn't have any more time to think about it when his hand comes up to knock on the stall. The door swings back from the impact and Mingi panics. Oh god did he break another toilet cubicle?Oh
Relationships: Shim Jaeyoung | Wyatt/Song Mingi
Series: onf wyatt makes some ateez guy cum in a public bathroom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067792
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	cherries jubiles

**Author's Note:**

> mingi is russian as a homage to [one of my favourite writers in the game rn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/magicsoul)

Mingi looks back up at the looming digital clock in the boarding area for what seems like the billionth time. Glaring red letters blink back at him like they're mocking him. "You wanna go home sooo bad don't you? You fool. You complete and utter buffoon". He's stared into the "DELAYED" text for so long that he can still see the blurry red outline when he closes his eyes. Mingi slides further down his seat. 

He kind of wants to cry. They were supposed to take off 5 hours ago, but apparently something faulty came up with the original aircraft, so they have to switch to another one, which, fine, Mingi doesn't want to go through the opening scene of Final Destination, but still....the amount of time it's taking is obscene. Mingi just wants to be at home, curled up with a bowl of Borscht and mumbling to his parents about how his grandparents and cousins and family friends and everyone else is doing before dropping his head onto the table because he's just so sleepy. 

No such luck. He's still in Incheon, practically fusing into the stiff metal chairs at the boarding gate. His limbs limply buzz with restless tension like a squashed fly, aching to move but unable to conjure up the energy to do so. He feels so grubby, like there's a fine layer of dust and fluff over his body no matter how hard he rubs, or how many times he rinses his face in the bathroom. Why in the ever-loving fuck did he put his laptop into his checked baggage. Oh yeah, because he's a dumb stupid idiot. There's literally only so much he can do on his phone before he just wants to smash it on the ground and cry. 

God he gets really antsy when he's bored. He refreshes his Line again, praying that Yunho is doing another random all-nighter, or that Yeosang went clubbing and is drunk enough to spam text everyone, but nope. Complete radio silence is all Mingi gets. He lets the phone slip out of his hands and into his lap, not even bothering to check if it'll bounce out and crash onto the ground, which is how he knows he's gone past the point of caring. He can't even window-shop because nothing is, or is willing to be open at 12 am, and he's honestly really scared that if he walks too far, he'd probably get lost inside the huge airport. It was a miracle that he found the boarding gate in the first place, and that was because he had to give up and ask an airport worker to personally lead him there like a lost puppy. Mingi slides down his chair even further thinking about it. 

He scratches at his ears and idly looks around in the hopes that something interesting is going to appear from thin air. Staring around at the rest of the boarding gate, all he sees are the other soon-to-be fellow passengers either sleeping in squashed positions, or keeping to themselves or their travel companions. 

It's probably been the 20th time since Mingi has pulled his headphones out, even though it's gotten to a point where his ears are throbbing from the buildup of wax, but he's just so bored. He opens up Spotify out of habit and plays his recently listened to. He just knows he's going to get completely sick of this song in just a few more listens, but his tired monkey brain doesn't want to listen to anything else. He has to turn it up quite a bit, frowning at the sound quality. Why is it so bad? It's way too quiet and strangely muffled. He swears he charged his headphones last night....

He swipes down his screen and the cardiac arrest hits when he realises he didn't even turn on his Bluetooth in the first place. Mingi just has his volume full blast in a quiet public setting and he's actually going to cry. The seconds it takes to pause feel like light years as he looks up to a bunch of surprised and dirty looks from the others around the boarding gate. He's just about to run to the bathroom and lock himself in a cubicle when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

He rushes out in garbled Korean, "I am really sorry, this was a total accident. I forgot to connect the Bluetooth because I'm an idiot like that." He babbles, hands shaking from sheer mortification. 

"Hey, was that Taboo? by Ninety One?" The voice replies, not in Korean, but fluent Russian, and embarrassment is replaced with astonishment. He whips his head around, and sees his slacked-jaw expression mirrored in another face. 

Oh. He's handsome, Mingi's brain unhelpfully supplies. The guy has a short bowl cut of jet black hair and it's a miracle to Mingi that he even looks good in that hairstyle. He also has tanned skin and an eyebrow slit, which bumps it up to a very handsome in Mingi's brain. He stares until he realises he was asked a question that he should probably answer. 

"Y-Yeah, it was." Mingi replies in Russian. He desperately wants the handsome stranger to keep talking to him, so he just starts saying whatever he can, which, considering Mingi, is not a great idea. "I'm trying to get into the Q-pop scene, and Ninety One seems as good a place as any to start." 

"Yes, they are right? Kazakhstan represent!" He's beaming so brightly at Mingi, eyes crinkling up so sweetly that Mingi curls up into himself, face heating up. 

The guy puts out a wide hand. "I'm Wyatt, nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you, Wyatt. I'm Mingi." He places his paler hand in the other's outstretched palm and they shake on it. Wyatt's grip is warm and firm, and Mingi just hopes that he's not sweating too badly. 

He moves his backpack from the seat beside him in an effort to make some space for Wyatt, who, instead of walking all the way around the row of seats, attempts to vault over straight to Mingi. The keyword here is 'try', because Wyatt sure as hell doesn't succeed. His foot gets caught on the top of the chair, and he swings down violently, face-first straight into the seat below him. A deafening thud echos across the boarding gate as Mingi's jaw drops for the second time in five minutes. More dirty looks and stink eyes from everyone else. They're scowling. A man has just face-slammed into a steel chair and they're scowling. Jesus what a rough crowd.

Wyatt is now, thankfully, sitting fine and upright, except for the gnarly bruise streaked across the entirety of the left side of his face. He's holding an ice pack against it, provided by the poor airport worker who Mingi hunted down and flailed his arms at from panic. Wyatt was strangely very calm throughout the whole ordeal despite looking like he just went ten rounds with Drago, meekly asking the airport worker for a bag of ice in equally fluent Korean. Mingi fiddles with the zip of his tracksuit jacket and peers at Wyatt from his wide glasses, who's pointedly looking at the board, still displaying the red 'delayed' text. Wyatt looks about as red as the sign, and Mingi kind of wants to laugh, but Wyatt's pain hits a little too close to home for his clumsy self, so he stays silent in support. 

It doesn't last very long, and before Mingi realises, he's blurting out the first thing that occurs to him. "Your Korean is really good." 

Wyatt finally turns his head to face Mingi, and he's flushed scarlet now. "Oh, yeah I mean, I'm Korean..." 

"Oh! Oh god I- Wow I-" 

"No no no, it's all good, I get that a lot. Like I am also Kazakhstani, but I'm not Kazakh, y'know?" 

"Yeah I, Oh jeez I'm so sorry." Mingi bursts into high giggles, a symptom of his nervousness and scratches at his neck. "This is new, being on the other end of the 'You're so good at a language you've been raised with since birth' thing..." He trails off awkwardly as Wyatt waves the apology away. 

"It's OK!" Wyatt's kind of laughing too. "I was actually going to say, your Russian is really good. I'm guessing you are Russian then?" 

Mingi nods, wide grin stretching across his face. "Yeah, I was born and raised in a little town outside Moscow." 

"That's cool." Wyatt nods. "It also explains the, uh..." 

Mingi looks questioningly at Wyatt before he puts two and two together and pouts. "Why I have the absolute worst accent when I speak Korean? Yeah that will do it." He doesn't miss the way Wyatt's eyes flick to his pouty lips before going back up to his eyes. 

"No, it's not- you're really very good." Wyatt's laugh gets louder. "It's enough to be able to speak the language so well. If I was born in Kazakhstan I'd probably have an accent too." 

"Oh, you weren't born there?" 

"No, I was born in Seoul. We moved when I was about 7." 

Mingi oohs in interest. The tiredness in his body fades away as he starts talking to Wyatt. It's non-stop between them as they bond over their shared experiences with weird cultural and social challenges of being stuck between two worlds. 

"...it's disheartening you know? My cousins will say a joke so we all laugh, and every time, my Grandpa gets so surprised, like 'Oh Mingi, you can understand these jokes?'. I feel like a child. Just because my speaking is a bit janky, it doesn't mean I don't understand what you guys are saying." 

Wyatt nods sympathetically. "God, yeah I always feel like 5 years younger whenever I come back. And I don't mean that in a good way." 

"My mom wouldn't even let me go clubbing when we came over together last year. She was beside herself when I told her I wanted to go by myself this year. She's always been so overprotective, but I swear it gets worse when we're in Korea." Mingi sighs. 

"That's parents for ya." 

"I mean...it may have also been because I got my phone stolen when I went to the arcade but...." Mingi pauses for comedic effect, and it works as Wyatt's shoulders start to shake, smile widening. 

"But, I probably would've gotten my phone stolen in Moscow anyway. It's not like pickpockets are purely Korean.... The point is, I am legally allowed to get turnt up!" Mingi emphasises those last two words, exaggerating his pout. 

Wyatt throws his head back as he laughs, deep and velvety, all because of Mingi. It makes him feel extremely pleased with himself. 

"She says I'd probably lose my head if it wasn't attached to my neck." He mumbles, unconsciously scratching at it. 

Mingi can't deny she has a point though. He's about to get lost in a shameful memory montage of all the things he's lost until he hears rustling from Wyatt. He looks up to see Wyatt pulling out a plastic container full of red cherries from his backpack. They're wine-red, full and heavy from ripeness and Mingi can already feel his mouth watering. But he's too timid to directly ask, so he just hopes that somehow Wyatt will be able to sense his hunger. Silly, he knows, but it's better than the possibility of being outright rejected. 

There's a strange, methodical way to the way Wyatt eats cherries. Instead of popping the whole thing into his mouth, he bites halfway, teeth digging into the pliant red flesh of the tiny fruit. Wine hued juice spills out, dripping over his lips and staining them red. Holding the cherry between his teeth, he rips out the stem from the top and only then does the rest of it go into his mouth, tongue darting out to lap at the rest of the liquid staining his lips. It's a really interesting way to eat cherries. Just extremely interesting and not anything else at all, Mingi forces himself to repeat like a mantra. That's the only reason he's looking so hard. Really. 

He doesn't realize that Wyatt's eyes are up there, and he's been watching Mingi watching him the whole time. "Do you want some? Take as many as you want. I would like to finish them before we leave anyway" 

"Y-Yes, definitely..." Of course he does. That's why he was looking so hard. Why else would he be so fixated on those cherry red lips, that pink tongue...Let us not, Mingi bemoans. Let us not think such things. He quickly takes the fruit Wyatt's offering him and pops it in his mouth, trying to distract himself. It doesn't really work, because he ends up really liking the sweet, tart taste, and then thinking about how it's probably the same taste in Wyatt's mouth. Mingi almost chokes on the pit because of that train of thought. 

They fall silent, busy trying to finish the box of cherries. Mingi even tries eating one the same way as Wyatt, but he kind of hates it. His teeth slip on the smooth seed and the juice dribbles messily down his chin. He feels like a slob and desperately tries to get to his pocket tissues before Wyatt beats him to the chase and offers him one. His face is the same colour as the cherries, Mingi thinks, smiling to himself. 

It's Wyatt who breaks the silence. "I don't remember where I saw it, but apparently if you can tie a cherry stem with just your tongue, it means you're a good kisser." 

Mingi looks up to see Wyatt fiddling with a cherry stem, clean and tiny knot right in the middle. For the second time that night (day?), he almost chokes. 

"Did you- did you tie that? In your mouth?" 

If Wyatt's face went any redder, the blood would probably burst straight from his bruise. 

"Yeah, I've been able to tie them for a while now." And with that, he takes another cherry, picks the stem off and places it in his mouth. 

A few seconds pass and Wyatt takes the stem out of his mouth to reveal another perfectly tied stem. Mingi claps lightly, awed by the performance. He's never tried it before, eagerly taking a discarded stem and popping it into his mouth. 

A few minutes pass and Mingi is nowhere close to even getting the ends together. If you asked the Mingi five minutes ago what an exhausted tongue would feel like, he'd simply furrow his eyebrows and shrug. The Mingi now is wiser, but at what price? The inside of his mouth aches, feels simultaneously dry and overly slick. He picks at the pile of broken stems from his previous attempts and sulks. 

"Oh, I'm sure it's not actually a good measure of if you can kiss." Wyatt pats him on the back, chuckling. 

"It would still be cool to be able to do that..." He sighs softly, and the pat becomes a rub, warm and soothing, and Mingi leans into the touch. 

Time sure does fly when you're having fun, Mingi realises a little wistfully when the speakers crackle to life, finally announcing the flight departure to Moscow. He's about to ask Wyatt what seat number he has. Maybe if he's lucky they'll be close? He's about to ask when Wyatt shifts in the seat, distracted uncomfortableness marring his handsome features. Before Mingi can say anything, Wyatt's already stood up. 

"I have to go to the bathroom." And with that, he's off, already a fair distance away before Mingi can even say anything. 

Mingi blinks a bit, still trying to process what just happened. Wyatt's bag is still here and everything. The empty box of cherries, his phone, maybe even his passport and boarding pass... That's not good. That is not good at all. Mingi flounders, looking between Wyatt's discarded bags and the steadily increasing line up of people at the boarding gate. What would Yunho do? Or Yeosang? Or his mom? Or literally anyone more competent than him. He fidgets with the zip of jacket so hard it might break off, mind spinning with what he should do. If he just lined up by himself and left Wyatt's stuff, what are the chances something would get stolen? Maybe if he lined up with Wyatt's stuff? But what if Mingi gets on the plane and Wyatt doesn't know, so he goes to try and find his stuff and ends up missing the plane? Mingi's head starts throbbing as he thinks too hard about the what-ifs and the maybes. If it were him, he'd want his stuff back. If it were him... 

He springs up, unable to take the hesitation anymore, and snatches Wyatt's stuff from the seat beside him. The bathroom isn't that far, and Mingi decides that giving him his stuff first hand would probably be the safest bet. The line hasn't even moved yet, there's no way they're going to miss it if he just drops it to Wyatt right? He runs as fast as he can, with two heavy backpacks in tow, to the bathroom. 

Mingi walks into the bathroom, quiet as a mouse. It's empty, which he's grateful for, because he feels like a fool lugging around two backpacks. But it's also strange, because he didn't think Wyatt would go to a farther bathroom, considering they're already boarding. He turns around to see the stalls, and a single solitary door has been shut. Ok, so he's in there. Mingi will simply knock on the door, and tell him he has his bags. Easy enough. Mingi ignores the film of sweat already forming on his hands and shuffles over to the closed stall. It's eerily quiet for an airport bathroom, Mingi frowns. He doesn't have any more time to think about it when his hand comes up to knock on the stall. The door swings back from the impact and Mingi panics. Oh god did he break another toilet cubicle? 

Oh 

Mingi looks down at the same time Wyatt looks up. He feels like the blood in his body doesn't know whether to rush up to his head, flood at his heart or go down towards his dick. Wyatt is kind of crouched over, deer in the headlights expression all over his blotchy red face. More importantly, his hand is wrapped around a veiny and leaking dick. Mingi's mouth drops open. In surprise? Shock? Lust? It's all being smushed together like playdoh in his fizzled out brain. Wyatt screams. 

"Holy fucking shit oh my fucking god jesus christ!" Wyatt puts up both hands like he's being arrested. "Oh my god I am so sorry I thought I'd locked that door and that's not even the problem because I definitely shouldn't be doing this in a public bathroom but the flight back is freaking 9 hours and it's already been 12 hours since our flight has delayed and I really thought I'd be home by now to just jack off and go to sleep but I'm here, and you're here, and you've just walked in on me." Mingi barely catches any of that, Wyatt's mouth moving a mile a minute. He watches in awe as the blush on Wyatt's face quickly seeps into the tips of his ears and down his glowing neck. 

Mingi's hands seem to move on their own as he reaches behind him, lightly pushing the door closed and turning the latch to occupied. 

"Yeah, it's better if you lock the door when you do this." It comes out as a whisper, but even that seems to echo in Mingi's ears, which feel as red as how Wyatt's look. 

He eyes the way Wyatt's adam's apple bobs up and down as he gulps. "You've... done this before?" 

"No." It comes out high and breathless, Mingi leaning back on the door he just closed, as his eyes rake further down Wyatt's body. 

There's not even anything to see really, because he's swaddled in his Under Armor matching sweatshirt and pants. Somehow in Mingi's poor horny brain that makes it even hotter, glimpses of Wyatt's honey-toned wrist, the hollow expanse between his collarbones, the curve of his hip, followed by jet black waves of hair surrounding the still menacingly hard cock. How did that Eminem song go again? 'Knees weak, arms sweaty, Mom's spaghetti?' He thinks he's going to pass out. Mingi's body must really not be his own right now. He feels like a puppet, sadistic puppeteer moving his hand out like he wants to touch the dick, wrap his fingers around it, toy with the leaking-Oh no.

His heart feels like it's going to burst from his chest when he notices Wyatt look down at his outreached hand, then slowly looking back up to Mingi's eyes. 

"Do you....want to?" Wyatt then dumbly gestures down, speck of incredulity in his eyes swamped by feverish hunger. 

Does he? The question bounces up and down and all around Mingi's brain, a ping pong ball that will not stay still and is too tiny for Mingi's large and clumsy hands to properly capture. His fingers twitch impatiently like they already know the answer Mingi's brain is too cowardly to give. He gives a slow nod, pursing his lips. Wyatt seems to move just as slow, cautiously stepping closer like he's afraid Mingi might change his mind and rip his dick off. The thought makes him cringe and Wyatt stops. 

"Hey, this is really weird, so like, if you wanna stop and back out, we can pretend this never happened." 

"It's, it's good. I'm good. I-" Mingi's panting by now, adrenaline of admitting what he wants feels more than his 6'1 body can handle. "I want this a lot." 

Wyatt closes the gap between them in an instant, left hand bracing himself up against the door, and right hand coming to wrap around Mingi's waist. It ends up being most of Wyatt's forearm wrapped around it as they draw closer together to watch Mingi run a tentative finger up Wyatt's pulsating cock. He traces a very prominent vein up to just under the head before deciding to just wrap his hand around the poor thing. It's warm, and already slick with precum and who knows what else Wyatt used. It's smaller than what he's used to (his own), but, if Mingi can be just a little bit conceited, not many are his size. Still, Mingi decides he's very fond of the way it feels, hot and heavy and throbbing all because of himself. He tightens his grip, and feels the hand on his waist tighten too. Wyatt's head is bowed, watching Mingi's hand and he kind of wishes he'd look up so Mingi can see his face. Mingi starts to move his hand up and down. He adjusts his speed and pressure based on the way Wyatt grips his waist, the breathiness of his moans. Mingi does his best to keep up the rhythm even as he rubs his own legs together, trying to bring relief to his own aching dick. 

"Does yours want out too?" Wyatt sighs into the crook of Mingi's neck. 

He sounds so shy, like he hasn't got his dick out in an airport bathroom and is getting jacked off by someone he met like 3 hours ago. It's still better than Mingi though, who can barely speak, other hand shakily reaching out to pull Wyatt's hand from his waist towards the prominent bulge in his tracksuit pants. His ego can't help but expand like a balloon when he sees Wyatt's eyes widen upon contact with Mingi. 

"Bro, you are huge..." 

Mingi feels dizzy with pride at the satisfaction drenching Wyatt's voice. He doesn't miss the way Wyatt licks his lips, hands immediately tugging pants down to free Mingi's own erection. 

"Fuck, it's even bigger than I thought." Mingi thinks he might float up to the ceiling with all this praise. 

Not only does Wyatt lick a wet strip up his hand, he also gathers the precum from his own dick, smearing a decent amount on his fingers before wrapping them around Mingi. 

"I can barely get my hands around it all, look. God, how does it feel to be this fucking hot and have all this cock?" 

Mingi squeezes his eyes shut, because it's the next best thing to blocking his ears. He thinks he's gonna cry, or cum, or maybe both. He moans, bucking his hips and trying to chase the heady pressure from Wyatt's hand. Mingi's never really thought of himself as a looker, limbs too long and gangly, eyes too small and narrow. Maybe if he heard it from Wyatt's mouth a few more times he could be convinced. 

"M—me? Nngh- Ni, No." 

"Yeah you, fuck, you looked so good sitting there, I had to talk to you." Wyatt's hand starts to pick up the pace. 

Mingi's heart feels like it's melting into lava, burning up at his chest and trickling down into his ribs, his stomach. 

"Ah, you really, hah...think so?" He looks down coyly, trying to meet Wyatt's eyes. 

"I—gh, I know so." Wyatt looks up to meet his gaze and Mingi's mind goes haywire, bright and shiny eyes looking back up at him like he really is gorgeous, that he really did get Wyatt's attention just from his looks. 

The thought feels like a mirage. Is he seeing things that aren't there? It doesn't really matter at this stage, with Mingi moments away from climaxing. 

"No one telling you? That you're so fucking pretty?" Mingi shakes his head. "Seriously? Not even your-" 

Suddenly, Wyatt straightens up a bit, teary eyes starting to dry up. They grow wider as a worried expression starts to sweep over his face. 

"Holy shit, are you taken? Fuck, oh God I-" He moves back a tiny bit, but his hand is still firmly on Mingi's dick, even as he's spluttering through an out of nowhere apology. 

"Shit man, I'm so sorry, totally didn't want to cuck anyone at all, Jesus-" 

Mingi purses his lips. And he thought he couldn't read a room. Or toilet cubicle, as it were. He really doesn't have anything better to do with that mouth? Mingi sobs out an exasperated no and to shut Wyatt up, sticks his tongue into open lips. The silence is instantaneous. It seems as though Wyatt finally gets the message, lips immediately pressing into Mingi's own. It does taste like cherries and Mingi licks further into Wyatt's mouth. He doesn't think he's gonna cry, he knows he's crying now, saltiness seeping into the tiny seams where they're sloppily sucking on each other's tongues. Whoever said the cherry stem knot thing was not lying, Mingi thinks helplessly as Wyatt makes a mess of his mouth. 

He feels like his jaw is going to melt off. Fully leaning against the bathroom door, Mingi pants and gasps, completely overwhelmed with the sensations in his mouth and on his dick. He feels delirious as he pushes their hips together, completely closing the gap between them and grinding into the intoxicating wetness. His hands are just going to get in the way so he clutches at Wyatt's shoulders instead, fucking into the hot, sloppy space between their stomachs. It's all too much and not enough, so much so that Mingi doesn't even notice the sudden extra spurts of fluid in between them, or Wyatt immediately tensing up, digging his fingers into the sensitive swell of Mingi's hips. 

"Hol-hol' on, wait, stop" Wyatt's trying to pry himself off of Mingi, who is not having it, clinging to him like a lifeline.

"Fuck you're gonna kill me, I already-" With a great heave, Wyatt pins Mingi's hips to the door and wrenches himself away, moaning at the loss of contact.

Mingi all but slams his head against the door, sobbing in painful desire. He was so close, the finish line was right there and he was sprinting at full speed, only to trip and fall face first right into the cold hard ground. It's all too cold, all too dry, all too empty. He barely registers Wyatt, who's trying to wipe at his tears with shaking hands. 

"Oh baby, it's ok, shh just give me a sec." Wyatt coos as he mouths at Mingi's collarbone. 

Wyatt starts sliding down, past chest and stomach. Mingi doesn't realize it until he feels it, hot and soft and wet, wrapped all around the head of his dick. All thoughts of being in public forgotten, Mingi wails at the top of his lungs. His hands instantly brace against the flimsy walls of the cubicle as Wyatt goes down on him. He knows he's not gonna last long, especially if he dares to look down. God, the feeling of Wyatt's mouth alone. That tongue teasing at the tip of his dick. Sucking all around him like he's going to drain the life out Mingi, and he'd be totally ok with it too. His vision is blurring out, blood rushing through his ears as lightning shoots through his veins and he sees stars behind his eyelids. He cums with a loud and needy whine, legs wobbling with the effort it's taking to keep standing. Is that an earthquake? No, it's just Mingi arms rattling the bathroom stalls with how hard he's shaking. It takes him a lot longer than usual to recuperate, chest heaving as he breathes, trying to steady himself. His ears are still ringing as he blinks away the black spots in his eyes. Mingi slowly lowers his hands from their iron-clad grip on the walls. The world slowly coming back into focus, he sees Wyatt's moved to the toilet seat, sitting on the closed lid and breathing heavily. Thank the lord Mingi's already come, arousal only able to kick weakly in his gut at the sight of Wyatt. 

Face flushed red, with lips even redder, heavy and swollen like the cherries he just had. He looks so obscene, glassy eyes half open and vacant. Mingi feels like he's looking into a mirror, the way Wyatt looks like his soul has just left his body and all that's left is a blissed-out husk. It dawns on him that Wyatt's mouth is open in a clean little o, lightly panting. Oh my god, he swallowed my- Mingi gulps, noticing the stray drops of cum staining the edge of Wyatt's plush lips. Well he definitely can't walk out looking like that. Fuck, if Mingi saw Wyatt looking that used and debauched...No focus! He quickly grabs at the toilet paper from the dispenser to try and get rid of what just happened. 

"You got some of my-some stuff on your face." Mingi stutters out. 

"Oh?" Wyatt leisurely wipes at the edge of his mouth, managing to get some on his fingers. He's looking directly at Mingi as he brings his sticky fingers up to his mouth and licks, torturously slow. 

Mingi realizes way too late that he's been pulling at nothing for the last few seconds. He has a whole unravelled roll of toilet paper on his hands now, pooling around their ankles as Mingi hurriedly goes to rush to wipe the fluids off their bodies. It's all silent except for the rustle of clothes and tissue. Mingi doesn't even know what he'd say. "Thanks for giving me the greatest nut I've had in my 21 years of life?" He's getting embarrassed just thinking about it. He tries to wipe away at Wyatt's gluey abs, who just bats his hands away. 

"No, it's ok. I can't believe I'm going to make you miss the plane." 

"I should be saying that, I-" 

"You're not the one who couldn't keep it in their pants for a few more hours." Wyatt scoffs as he wipes away the gunk on Mingi and pulls his pants up for him. 

"I'm not letting you miss this already delayed to shit plane!" Wyatt asserts as he mysteriously manages to lob Mingi's backpack at him and fling open the stall door in the blink of an eye. 

"Go!" He spins Mingi around and slaps his ass like he's setting a horse free. 

Mingi gets so caught up in the rush that he sprints away, feeling less like a powerful stallion and more like a weak foal, skittering around on his lanky legs and praying to God the plane hasn't already left. The stewardess at the boarding gate gives him the stink eye when he crashes into the desk and hastily pulls out his passport and tickets, but it's technically still boarding time so she lets him through. He doesn't even have the time to think about Wyatt until he parks his butt in the tiny economy seat. 

Shit. Should he have waited at the gate for him? Told the stewardesses that there was a man who was in the bathroom.....puking.....? Mingi frowns at that. They'd assume he was sick and wouldn't let him on then wouldn't they? Oh God what is he supposed to do? Should he notify a flight attendant now? Run out and wait in the jet-bridge? Highjack the cockpit and demand they stop the flight? He's pretty sure he'd immediately get detained and arrested for that last one so scratch that. 

He gulps, twisting to and fro, trying to find any telltale signs of black hair and white sweatshirt, teething at his cheek. He picks at the hand rest as he watches the stewards start to get into air safety presentation positions. Mingi's heart sinks to the ground as he thinks of how he just left Wyatt back there. God, he gave him the best circle jerk of his life and this is how Mingi repays him. He wrings his hair, doesn't even notice the looming shadow behind him until he feels the hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey, are you sitting here?" The deep voice asks in fluent Russian.

Mingi whips his head around and for the second time, looks straight into crinkly brown eyes. 

"да!"

**Author's Note:**

> it's done, it's finally over. the brain worms have been ejected... smell ya later atinys 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/wrenlans)


End file.
